Extreme Thoughts

Day thirty of the adventure.

The group's pace was swift, likely thanks to Kraft's familiarity with the route, cutting the usual month-long journey to Gremir Forest in half.

"Truly astonishing. Aside from the Druids, this is the first time I've seen another race use such Rapid Growth Magic."

Watching Rhode pull a handful of seeds from his pack, scatter them on the ground, and then cast a spell that made the seeds burst forth and grow in an instant, Kraft couldn't help but marvel again.

Over this time, he had witnessed firsthand how Rhode honed this magic from clumsy fumbling to such masterful precision.

He remembered the shock he felt when Rhode first demonstrated the spell before him.

Even though that attempt had failed.

The seeds hadn't sprouted; instead, they withered on the spot.

But with trial after trial, from growth without fruit to now a bountiful harvest, only eight short days had passed.

For an elf, that span was but a blink, yet this man had accomplished it.

Tender shoots grew rapidly, transforming into a full plant in the blink of an eye, even bearing bright red fruit.

Rhode plucked the fruit and instinctively handed it to Serie beside him.

Serie took it, bit into it, and the sweet juice burst in her mouth, making her squint slightly from the sheer delight.

Som had somehow sidled over, his face full of admiration: "Rhode, you're like a walking granary!"

"What kind of weird comparison is that!"

Rhode laughed and gave the dwarf a light punch, harmless.

Over these days, he had grown thoroughly familiar with Som.

The dwarf possessed the boldness and bravery typical of his kind, along with a meticulousness rare among ordinary dwarves.

And after learning about Rhode and Serie's destination, he hadn't shown a shred of hesitation, instead brimming with fighting spirit.

From any angle, he was a qualified adventure companion—if only his appetite were a bit smaller.

In truth, the addition of these two had drained Rhode's precious seasonings at an alarming rate, and creating the Rapid Growth Magic was partly to replenish them.

Kraft stood a short distance away, a complex glimmer in his eyes.

He had never seen such an unusual magical system—neither elven heritage nor Druidic magic, something entirely foreign to him.

Or rather, it no longer seemed like the magical system of this world.

He had previously probed Serie indirectly, but she had said nothing.

He understood it was their secret, so he didn't press further, but the curiosity in his heart wouldn't fade.

Moreover, judging solely by the magical talent Rhode had displayed, he was bound to become a powerful mage in the future.

Kraft found himself looking forward to that day.

Under the night sky, the four sat around a campfire.

Since they would officially enter Gremir Forest's territory tomorrow, there was no rush; they planned to rest for the night.

Rhode was already eager to meet his own kind.

After all, this would be the first time in over half a year since his transmigration that he'd encounter fellow humans.

He only hoped it would be a relatively kind tribe. If it was full of deceit and conflict, Rhode wouldn't teach them magic.

At that moment, Som was wolfing down the berries Rhode had produced with his Rapid Growth Magic, juice dripping from his smooth chin.

"Slow down," Rhode said with a smile, handing him a cloth. "No one's fighting you for them."

Perfectly grilled skewers, carefully seasoned mushroom soup, and berry dessert for after the meal—enough to win over any stomach in this world.

Som wiped his mouth: "Rhode, your cooking is amazing. When this damn war is over, you've got to go to the Dwarven Kingdom and be a chef!"

Som had heard about his village being conscripted and had already decided that once he grew strong enough, he'd return to the Dwarven Kingdom as a respected warrior.

The war he referred to was, of course, the Three-Race Allied Forces' campaign to clear out the Monsters.

But no one could guarantee when that war would end.

Not even the leaders of the three races were confident.

"Being a chef isn't my dream."

Rhode laughed, turning down Som's suggestion.

No way—at the very least, he aimed to become Humanity's Oldest Mage, or the First Great Sage. A mere dwarf chef's title wouldn't satisfy him.

As for being the First Hero or something, Rhode had no such thoughts.

For one, there wasn't even a Demon King in sight yet. Even if you saved the world, there'd be no final boss to fight.

Besides, in the Mythical era, it was hard to say who was righteous and who was evil. The races all fought for their own gods' beliefs, with no clear right or wrong.

It was just that now, the races were tired of fighting and wanted to pause, dealing first with the worsening Monster threat.

"But maybe this war will be the last one."

Kraft added a branch to the fire and suddenly spoke. As the only one in the group with contact to the outside world, he naturally knew the latest developments out there.

"Why?" Serie suddenly lifted her head.

She caught the subtext in Kraft's words, which seemed to refer to more than just the Three-Race Allied Forces.

"Actually, there's already been a hint of it in the allied council meetings. The main reason is that every race is tired of fighting—even the gods themselves have grown weary of it."

In the Mythical era, gods truly existed in the world, or at least the foundation of divinity was present in this realm.

It was just that, constrained by the limitations of this plane, the gods couldn't unleash their full power.

But they could use certain means to manifest their divine power through their followers, even allowing their believers to harm other gods.

Rhode had always wanted to see those legendary gods for himself.

"Tch."

Serie clicked her tongue softly and lowered her head. Rhode naturally understood that she was a bit displeased.

After all, Serie's ultimate goal was to kill the gods, and she had been hoping this war would grow as chaotic as possible.

Then suddenly, one day, someone tells her that the gods are bored and have decided to stop the war.

The frustration in her heart was easy to imagine.

Stop when you want, fight when you want—what do you take your followers for?

If you're going to fight, you have to see it through to the end. A draw like this is utterly meaningless!

Serie's small face was hidden in the shadows, making it impossible to read her expression.

Rhode quietly edged closer and whispered, "Don't overthink it."

Serie lifted her head, her golden eyes reflecting the firelight. "You don't understand. This war has lasted two thousand years! Two full millennia!" Her voice carried a barely concealed fury. "Why... why wasn't I born into this world sooner!"

Rhode remained silent.

Some of Serie's thoughts in this era had already veered toward the extreme.